


Heartbreak Motel

by LadyPoly



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Broken Dean, Castiel's Trenchcoat, Drinking, Drunk Dean, Drunk Sex, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Gen, Heartache, M/M, Other, POV First Person, Post-Leviathan, Regretful Dean, Sad Sam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-28
Updated: 2015-09-28
Packaged: 2018-04-23 20:00:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4890202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyPoly/pseuds/LadyPoly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean finds different ways to deal with the loss of Castiel after fishing his coat from the water. For Dean we all know what that means. He thinks he's succeeded in fooling Sam and not letting how bad he really is shine through but Sam is always watching. After all no-one knows Dean Winchester like his little brother.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heartbreak Motel

**Author's Note:**

> This was my second fic, but it took some time to tweek. Please leave me some feedback if you don't mind. Love knowing what you all think. I was drunk when I wrote this, but thought maybe someone would like it. Hope you enjoy. 
> 
>  Dearest Readers,
> 
> It would appear that not only were several of my works copied and posted as someone else’s and that a few people I trusted have also stolen ideas, images created and scenes.
> 
> Should you compare my stories to something I have not said was inspired by a prompt, or that someone has stolen, in the comments of the story please share it with the link, or the place it was and the writer's name or username. I will do what I can to contact them on my own if I need to. Please do not engage them yourselves. If I need help, I will sound the bat signal ;)
> 
> While I have dealt with the people involved the best I can, with the help of loyal reader’s and friends, I have to ask that you please keep this in mind. In the last several weeks it has become very clear to me that the majority of fanfic writers don't understand plagiarism. Stealing ideas without crediting, borrowing quotes, etc and claiming it as your own-- plagiarism. A form of fraud. You cannot take something blow for blow, change the setting and claim that either. An homage is also not done this way, and if you believe so-- it’s still a form of plagiarism.
> 
> When you cite the fandom, the characters etc, you show that you have given credit for the idea. What the writer does next if not stating a prompt and it’s source is their own. The canon ideas are given credit, the divergent is their own.
> 
> Now sometimes similarities inspired by scenes happen, but there is no reason why a comparison of the two should be clear. There is no reason for one writer’s voice to still be evident if you were inspired by their story while claiming your own idea.
> 
> I want to say this didn’t anger me, or hurt me but it did. It infuriated me and to be honest, I didn’t know if I should continue.
> 
> If I am slower to post things now, it is only due to feeling unsure. I am very sorry.
> 
> All my love,  
> LadyPoly

The impala engine dies as I pull into the parking space assigned with our motel room. The keys dangle as I silence the radio dial and glance at the low lit room window, wondering if Dean will be displeased. I didn't get what he asked for, I just can't play fetch tonight.  
There's a dull stinging in my shoulder as I run my hand through my hair. Guess I got a little more banged up than I thought in our last scuffle. I feel bitter thinking about the incident. This hunt was a joke. Ghosts should be easy after everything we've been through, I mean, we started the damn apocalypse and ended it. This stuff should be elementary school level for us by now. I crack my knuckles. I'm beyond frustrated with it all. Dean's mood hasn't been making it any easier.

It's only been about a month, but by day 4 it was evident Dean wasn't bouncing back from our new monster meet and greet. Losing Castiel has taken it's toll on him and I'm not sure even Dean knows how bad it is. I hear him mumble his name in his dreams. I catch him staring at that trench coat he fished out from the lake, how he strokes it when he thinks I'm not looking. It hurts me to see him like this. I can't help but feel heart broken for my brother.  
Sometimes he changes songs on the radio and his eyes look misty. At first I didn't really think about it but it became more and more clear when he stopped trying to play it off as just a crappy station. Dean really does love that silly Angel. He will never say it aloud for fear the world will implode and ruin his happiness, but it is clear. I think now he probably wishes he had just said it. No one knows him better than I do. I admit however I never saw it coming. Dean would probably make some big deal about not being gay if I asked him. I don't think that's how you would accurately describe it though. After all Castiel was genderless. Hell, he wasn't even human. Still amazing that Dean loves an "Angel of the Lord" though of all things. Dad would probably shit a brick if he had lived through everything till now and saw what I do. I swallow the cold feeling in my stomach at the thought of him.  
My thoughts start to turn unpleasant when I notice movement from the window in front of me.There are two shadows being cast onto the Impala's hood. The hunter in me worries for a moment before the reflex dies down. This isn't a dangerous situation. The second shadow makes that clear now. One is Dean's, but in what I suspect is the bathroom doorway stands what has to be the silhouette of a female form. Curious, I swallow slowly and debate going inside just to have a look for myself.  
My string of relationships and partners cross my mind. My loneliness takes over my sense of grief and worry from a few moments before. It has been a long time since I felt the touch of a woman, or anyone for that matter. The women have been scarce since I have had my soul back, and as plentiful as they were, I still cannot fully recall them.

Looking over my shoulder, I check for anyone who might be around. The motel is mostly dark, empty and the other inhabitants seem preoccupied. With nothing to sweat, I ease the Impala door closed as quietly as possible. With my back against the cement building wall outside the door my eyes dart around a second time just to be sure I'm alright. From where I am, I manage a closer look where the curtain parts by leaning over slightly.  
My heart skips a beat and a warmth grows in the pit of my stomach as I scan the room. It wouldn't be the first time I've been curious to watch Dean. Pre-adolescent hormones were a nightmare. We were too close for that, being raised the way we were, for things not to have come to this. We are always up in one another's space, and it wasn't until much later that certain signals and blatantly obvious rules were spoken of. They came after a long string of Sex Ed 101 on the family road trips. While Dad was gone, there were many nights in motels my adolescent brother would whisper to his partners that I was asleep and they had nothing to worry about. I'm not sure if he never caught on or if he just didn't care about an audience.  
I feel 13 again as I lick my lips and focus on the music I can hear passing though the poorly insulated wall. 'Running' by Adam Lambert is playing loudly. The song always makes me think of Dean. Castiel agreed when he'd heard it stopped outside a gas station in Texas waiting for Dean to come back. I smile at the memory as I turn focus on the woman I can now see clearly. 

My mouth goes dry. Dean has found an absolute goddess this time. She is bronzed skinned and flawless draped against the bathroom door frame. The low light accents her nicely. Her lean, slender frame is curvy and accented perfectly by the robe slowly dripping off her shoulders. Her body moves like a panther on the prowl in perfect time with the music. Her flexibility is obvious as her fingers slide down her long muscular legs. Her hips sway seductively, butt against the bathroom door frame as her breasts bounce slightly in a navy blue bra. How does Dean always manage to find such woman in the most sparse populated places?. I'm jealous as she mouths something I can't quite hear. She leans forward again, her hands snaking over her stomach and unwrapping something from around her shoulder. Between her breasts a navy neck tie dangles freely around her neck. My hormones die down to give way to a shiver up my spine. The realization hits me like a freight train. I have to remember to breathe. I don't know how to look away. I'm reeling inside, my body just stands frozen. The world seems to stop spinning. The heat of desire I felt before is replaced by something dark and depressive.

 

She brings a hand up through her hair and unties it. It hangs loose, long and wavy around her shoulders. It is dark like a raven. My heart is hammering inside my ribs. Setting her knee down on the bed, the other stretched behind her, she runs her hand down Dean's cheek. He leans into it, eyes closed like he's suppressing a groan. When he touches her face in return, she opens her eyes towards the window. I duck down further as I clasp my hand over my mouth to keep from gasping. In the low light they're a shade of blue I never thought anyone else would have.  
The pit of my stomach is cold and unsettled. I honestly feel sick. I'm suddenly aware of everything I dismissed because I wasn't thinking with my actual head. Draped around her isn't a bath robe, it's Castiel's trench coat. There is no mistaking it even in the low light. How had I missed that? I struggle to swallow as she straddles my brother's open lap through his jeans. His hand grasps the neck tie, twisting it roughly as he takes her lips against his. I can't look away as the music dies and suddenly through the window glass I can hear her voice. It's like silk as she asks him what he wants. I shudder as Dean gives a low feral like moan,

"You.." His voice sounds heavy with whiskey, his hands grasping at her breasts. His thumbs rub against her nipples and she arches slightly. His green eyes drink her in as they grind together.  
"Please.."  
She throws her head back as Dean's left hand grips the trench coat pulling her closer to him.  
"Castiel... I need you"  
His face drops to her shoulder as she snakes her fingers through his hair, "Anything Dean, for you" 

I can't breathe as I hear the bed squeak. The buttons on Dean's shirt fly off roughly. I finally manage to tear away from the window and lean heavily against the motel wall. I'm struggling for air. She calls out and Dean growls Cas' name loudly. My chest hurts. My heart is breaking inside for Dean and my soul wishes a prayer to heaven could make Castiel come running.  
I wish I could pray loud enough to drown out their noises. They're animalistic, angry, and vocal. This is how he is struggling to cope. I can hear her screams lined with pain and ecstasy. My brother's voice is raising steadily louder. His intoxicated heartache mumbles the dead Angel's name constantly between his gasps for air, his hips slapping against her and echoing around them. He slams into her mercilessly. She almost sounds like she is sobbing in pain between her pleasure. There is nothing but rage and loss in that room. I ball my fists up tightly. Dean's climax emerges as a broken sob.  
I have a bitter taste in my mouth. I had listened when Dean told me to go for supplies. This was the third time since Cas had left us. The lists were always long and I was always gone for nearly an hour. It suddenly makes things so focused. He never seemed to care I'd managed to find stuff or make do even the most deserted towns. Now I knew why Dean was always so quiet and facing the motel walls pretending to be asleep. Why he looked so ashamed and broken between the walls he desperately tried to hide behind.

"Oh Cas..." I close my eyes and fight back the tears in my eyes, "He needs you.."

The room has gone silent. I slam my fist into the wall before slipping into the backseat of the Impala. Dean's discarded leather coat makes a decent, comforting pillow as I struggle to lay across the back seat. For the first time I realize just how I badly I miss Castiel, too, despite everything. We are just better with him here. He did so much for us. He made Dean whole since being in Hell. He honestly made Dean better. He does what I know I never can for my brother.  
Wrapping my arms around the coat, I bury my face in the familiar scent. It is the smell I associate with being home. Worn leather, Impala, whiskey and the odd cigarette with a hint of Dean. The knot in my stomach gives way and silently I cry for the first time in months. I cry for Dean and Castiel, for my first real friend who is now gone. I cry for a future I know nothing about, for the fear that sits in my heart. The worry never leaves my mind anymore. I can't lose my family again. Not after all I already have and have gone through to be whole again with them. I send Castiel one last prayer for Dean, letting my thoughts fall away into the darkness around me. I'll never stop praying to him. I'll never stop praying for Dean, for their love.

Inside the motel room a broken righteous man sobs into the arms of an Angel, his fingers tearing desperately at a dirty trench coat. He will never, and cannot forget the smell of as it dampens beneath his heartbreak. He prays for forgiveness and wishes it were him instead. He begs blue eyes to release him from Hell just one more time.


End file.
